Month: February 2023

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I Think I Got It Right

[This post is a repeat from four years ago. Another round of birthday hugs, cakes, hopes, and realities to two of my fave-rave relatives!🎂🍰🎉🎊🪅]

Bow Ties o’ the Day say MERRY BIRTHDAY! to my nephew, Kyle. And to my niece, Angie. They share a birth date, but not birth years. At least, I’m pretty close to certain I remember they were both born on February 10th.

I’m at the age when facts which I absolutely know to be true somehow feel a bit iffy. I woke up this morning, looked at the calendar, and thought, “Hey, it’s Kyle’s and Angie’s birthday! I better do a celebratory birthday post!” And ever since that moment, I have questioned if my memory is recollecting correctly. Could I text ’em and ask? Yeah. Could I call my sisters to verify their kids’ birthdays? Yeah. But that would be admitting I don’t know everything I’ve always known. That would be defeat. I will not do it. I would rather take a chance on being wrong than out-and-out admit I’m hazy on facts I’ve known for decades.

If my memory turns out to be correct about today’s birthdays, I’m a fabulous aunt with a terrific memory. If my recall-er has failed me, Kyle and Angie will at least appreciate my effort. But they’ll know my noggin is slippin’. I’ll be found out.

FYI The dearly-departed deer you see posing with me and Kyle is my first and last venison kill. One was enough for me. Yes, Kyle is larger than this Bambi. Dad mounted the antlers for me and I still have them. I should probably make them into a key chain. And I do love that Kyle is wearing suspenders.

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4-Eyed and Bow Tied

Bow Tie o’ the Day—which I have named “Bobcat”—is the final feathery one in my collection. So far. You’ve seen them all. So far. I say I am done acquiring more neckwear, but I know I am probably not finished at all. If I see a cool one I don’t already own, I must bring it home to live in the Tie Room. Nevertheless, I am necessarily slowing down the buying of more neckwear, simply because it’s more and more difficult to find cool ties I don’t already have.

Along with Bobcat the Bow Tie o’ the Day, I have donned my new glasses, which you will see often. My eyesight actually improved since my last eye exam, which I didn’t know was possible—but YAY! New glasses were a must. Unfortunately, my eye guy explained how my eyesight improved because my cataracts got worse. Apparently, it happens all the time. It has to do with light and floaters and a bunch of other eye science I researched when I got home from my eye exam. That’s how I roll.

And my T-shirt o’ the Day is just plain funny and true.

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I’m Talkin’ Pepe Le Pew Kind Of Pee-ew

These two feathery Bow Ties o’ the Day are relatively new to the “fowl” section of the Tie Room. Nevertheless, they scared the buhjeebies out of me this afternoon when I pulled them out of their boxes. At that moment, it was obvious to me that I had never actually opened their see-through boxes before storing the pretty specimens, because the stench that wafted off the little critters when I opened their cases was horrid. I swear I felt actual nose hairs fall from my nostrils after I got a whiff of the rotted chemical smell their carcasses emitted. In whatever unregulated factory where they were made, from whatever poor country they hail—they stunk to the high heavens and the low heavens both. I could not get close enough to either one of my precious bow ties to put one around my neck for a TIE O’ THE DAY selfie. Not to fear: I know how to rehabilitate bow ties caught committing olfactory offenses. I know how to lift them to the proper level of an acceptable smellability. After a couple of weeks closed up together in a baggie with a fragrant dryer sheet, both of these fine feathered friends will be wearable once again. Hey, I could create a baseball cap about it! MAKE STINKY BOW TIES WEARABLE AGAIN! 🤡

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Another Bow Tie Flexes Its Feathers

This luscious feather Bow Tie o’ the Day ushers in a challenging thought for the day, as written by Rev. Benjamin Cremer: “When we Christians become convinced that we are the only authority on truth, that anyone who opposes us is evil, and that things will only get better if we are in charge of all positions of power, that is when we know we are no longer worshiping God. We are worshiping ourselves.” That thought, my non-feathered friends, is worth some clear and serious personal pondering.🤔

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Possible Oscars Ceremony Dress #1

Bow Tie o’ the Day remarked about this first outfit: “Well, it’s super sparkly!” I do believe I would stand out well on the Red Carpet if I wore this, for reasons far beyond the sparkles. The attire’s hardware appears to be prickly also, so that makes it a safe dress to wear in a bigly crowd full of famous gropers. Still, it’s not quite my style o’ dress. I’ll keep looking through whatever gownage I can find. 🎬

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A Yellow Bow Tie (And Lapel Pin) O’ The Day Is The Thing With Feathers

There was a minor scuffle in the Tie Room today. When I went up to calm things down amongst the neckwear, I found the entire group of my made-from-feathers Bow Ties o’ the Day gathered in protest. They were there with their tiny microphones and signs—their cell phones pointed and filming in every direction in case something juicy happened. It seems they were upset because I haven’t worn them often enough for their liking. I realized they were right. They haven’t been in the TIE O’ THE DAY rotation regularly. I haven’t paid much attention to them for a very long time. During our public negotiations, I promised them I would change: I need to re-examine how often I wear them. I also promised them reparations in the form of agreeing to wear each of them during the next week. Peace now fills the Tie Room again. I was wrong. I admit it. And now we can all get back to business. I wish more people would admit when they are wrong, then move on.

An Emily Dickinson poem declares to us that “Hope is the thing with feathers—/That perches in the soul—.” It’s that invincible slice of fire in us that makes us go forth when we would really rather be stagnant—whether out of fear of what’s next, doubt about how to continue, or an apparent lack of energy to sally forth. The smallest hope in each of us can kick our metaphorical and literal butts off the couch and out into the world of living a life—if we let it. Hope keeps us ticking when our situation is looking dire. Sadly, some of us are currently in such a state that we have nary a spark of hope left inside at all. In all reality, it’s more than likely every one of us has run out of hope at least once in their lives. Personally, in those times of a hope-drought in my life, that’s when I was fed by other people’s hope. Sometimes people shared their hope with me, and I tried with all my heart to take it in. I fed off seeing those people moving—with their kind hope—through tough times and into their more hopeful futures. Sometimes I flat-out stole the hope I saw and heard in others. I stole their tidy inspirational quotes and attitudes. I stole acts of service I had watched them perform for others, and then I performed those same acts of service for others when I could see the need. I want to repeat this and make it clear: I didn’t just borrow a cup of hope—I stole all the hope I could. Me—I’m the Hope Burglar. I had to trust what I stole and use it to kindle my own feathery hope into being again. It is because of needing to replenish my own hope that I learned an important lesson about it. Stealing hope is not against any law of the universes. Nobody loses anything in the transaction. Everybody gains. True hope, in fact, encourages a kind of promiscuity. It likes to get around. True hope wants to abide within every one of us. Hope, by its very nature, wants to invite everyone to its party.